Even the Shadows Echo
by LadyStarblade
Summary: After "Empire," Lennie Briscoe ponders his condition. Another short POV.


Title: Even the Shadows Echo  
  
Author: Lady Starblade -- ladystarblade@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Category: Drama/Angst  
  
Spoilers: "Empire" and "Damaged Goods" (pertaining to Cathy Briscoe)  
  
Warnings: Nope  
  
Archive: If ya want it, take it. Just let me know where.   
  
Feedback: Pretty please? (makes Bambi eyes)   
  
Disclaimer: The Law & Order Universe and the wonderful characters that inhabit it do not belong to me. I make no money from this writing.   
  
Author's Note: Saw "Empire" tonight, and something about that ending just stuck with me. And for some odd reason, my post-ep decided to follow Lennie, not Rey Curtis. Go figure. My first try at Lennie's thought processes; please bear with me.  
  
Summary: After "Empire," Lennie Briscoe ponders his condition.  
  
**  
  
As the four of us break through the front doors of the courthouse, I slow down a bit to stay with Rey. "You okay?" I know, dumb question. My partner shoots me a look that tells me he's thinking the same thing.  
  
But he doesn't say it. Instead, he just kind of shrugs and says, "Yeah, sure." Even I know better than to say anything else. Rey's expression is dark, and I can't help but wonder what the conversation in the Curtis household will be like tonight. I guess a lot of it depends on how she's doing. If it's a good day, they'll probably put the kids to bed, sit down in that cozy living room they've got and talk it out. If not....well, Rey may get gung-ho on the job sometimes, but give him a chance to duck a personal problem and he'll dig his head so far into the sand you'd never get it out. I know what that's like; I used to do the same thing with the girls.  
  
I resist the urge to clap Rey on the shoulder and go to catch up with McCoy and Carmichael at the top of the stairs. At least there's not a lot of press with their microphones and lights that'll have you seeing stars for the next two hours. No, all that's there is a little fleet of black limos and a murderer shaking hands and smiling. Turns out that damn stadium bond got okayed. Figures. He gets convicted, but he still gets what he wanted. What a world.   
  
As I follow in the lawyers' wake, I glance back up over my shoulder. There's that Ludlow woman coming up behind Rey. I'm half expecting her to pull out a dagger and stick it right into Rey's back. She's already done it metaphorically, why not literally? Rey told me that he should've figured out what she really was when she called me 'shady.' Me shady? Yeah, I've got things in my past I'm not proud of, but compared to that piece of work, I'm a saint. She'd have a shadow on a cloudy day.  
  
McCoy might've wondered what the hell Rey was thinking. I could've told him, if I thought he would've listened. Rey's a protector. Ludlow had him wrapped around her finger with the helpless act. I seem to get stuck with partners that have white knight complexes. Mike Logan was the same way, especially with kids. I should've known better, I guess. But I underestimated Ludlow. I think we all did, especially Rey.  
  
The two of them are talking right now, and I turn away before curiosity kills my cat. It's really none of my business. I take a hard left before I get to the gaggle of suits at the bottom and pick a lamp post to stand by until Rey gets done. Then I guess we'll head back to the precinct. Unless Rey wants to go home, but I don't think he'll be in any huge hurry tonight.  
  
And I'm never in any big hurry to go home.  
  
**  
  
Van Buren chased us out. Some kind of unspoken agreement kept us at our desks until she chased us out, making some vague threats about putting us on traffic warrants if we didn't get ourselves out of there. I made sure Rey got home, and now I'm heading to what I call home. Not that I want to.  
  
There's this place a couple blocks over from my place where I go and sit. The bartender knows me and knows not to let me drink. Going down that road is the last thing I need to be doing. I'll sit in there, watching Sportscenter or reading the paper over and over until I get so tired that I fall asleep as soon as I hit the bed. Then I don't have to think. It's the old distraction game, you know? But there was some party going on tonight. Sixty drunk guys. Not my idea of company. And anywhere else, and I might be tempted to jump off the wagon.   
  
It's been getting harder ever since Cathy died. My baby girl is dead and I'm still here. That's wrong. I was supposed to be dead long before she even started worrying about middle-age. Losing her just reminded me that everything and everybody around me is changing and moving, living and dying, and I'm just stuck in the same rut. Two wives have come and gone, a handful of partners, a couple of precincts, a dead daughter....at least the bottle was consistent.   
  
When I finally get to my apartment door, I don't want to open it. There's nothing on the other side. But hey, what am I going to do, sleep in the hallway? I tell myself to get over it--again--and unlock the door. I flick the inside light on and look around, making sure that the local Five-Finger Discount Club hasn't been by. Everything is still where I left it this morning.  
  
But there's really nothing here. Nothing. A handful of pictures. An old stereo. A TV that I never turn on any more. There's nothing and nobody here. There hasn't been for a long time.   
  
Hell, even the shadows echo.  
  
END 


End file.
